


death becomes us

by Pen Dumonium (megyal)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/Pen%20Dumonium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deities of death meet for an auction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	death becomes us

**Author's Note:**

> Really quick exercise from [this post](http://pushkin666.livejournal.com/206819.html?format=light): Create a story or poem inspired by a line in a David Lehman poem - _"Death was last seen in the auction room, looking worried."_

I was late, and therefore I hurried along the corridors of time, stepping across galaxies. In my haste, I turned a young comet on its head. It buzzed at me angrily, and tried to lash at my heel. I would get an accusatory memo on that, I'm sure.

The solid darkness parted, and I rushed into a room already full of shimmering energy. The seats ascended away from a flat, round dais. All of the front row was full, and so was the second and third. Mictecacihuatl, that bone-dry lady, beckoned to me and patted the hard seat beside her. I pressed past Persephone, who was sitting as far as possible from her husband as usual, and apologised when I stepped on El Tío's toe.

"Sorry," I whispered, as the surrounding conversation began a slow descent towards an anticipatory silence.

"It is not a problem," El Tío responded, but his wide brow was furrowed in annoyance.

"Sit, Irkalla." Mictecacihuatl motioned in her impatient manner. "They are about to start."

As soon as I took my place, a bright cone of light focused on the dais. A circle inscribed in the middle began to extrude, and in a few decades or a few milliseconds, a column stood in the solemn illumination. At its circular top, a writhing, dark shape materialized. It was nebulous, faint at this moment, glaringly present in another.

Beside the column, a being made itself present. We deities of death had no name for this being, and that is what we called it: No-Name, here before the first death-god swallowed the first dying soul.

No-Name said, "Welcome. The auction begins."

Mictecacihuatl whispered in my ear, "This is my favourite part," and her breath smelled like ancient sand. I nodded, staring down at whispery shape atop the column.

It was a star; or rather, the death of one. The only type of death over which the deities had no direct control, and we had to bid for it. The type of power released after the death of a star was monstrous, and death-sustaining. I could also use the grave of the star as my new underworld. My current one was...cramped for space.

The star writhed and gasped. Around me, I could hear the gods putting forward their bids: Anubis threw in the souls of five thousand jackal-warriors. Ogbunabali offered the screams of the murderers he slew. Kālarātri, with her bloody smile, wordlessly held out her powerful sword. I could not speak, nor could I stop staring at the dying star.

 _i am born_ , it murmured to me and I rose to my feet. No-Name gave me a long, curious stare.

"Irkalla?" No-Name's voice was gentle and harsh. "Your offer?"

"It...lives," I whispered. My voice sounded strangled to my own hearing. No-Name spun around to stare at the dying entity. The others stood around me, the galaxies quiet.

The star twisted and died, and pulled at our souls. Eyes, innocent and murderous, blinked up at us all from the column. A new death-god was here....young, so very young.

And powerful.


End file.
